Jesus, where do I begin? Last night, and at long last, Irene and I made the trek to Harlem to the legendary Apollo Theatre to see Morrissey take to the stage for the first time here in many years. We’re both sick with colds and the weather was crap, but we were psyched.
There was a large line to get into the venue and who of course was at the near front of this line? None other than Peter, Joe and Michael, three-fifths of my favourite band Saintface. Decked out in identical denim, the lads were, to say the least, excited. It was an NME moment. To say Saintface loves and has been influenced by Morrissey/The Smiths would be an understatement compared to one describing me as a “casual” Star Wars fan. These guys were ready to rumble. Little did I know what was to come…
This was my first visit to the Apollo and I was shocked at how small this venue was. However, my shock turned to pure joy when I discovered that our 4th row Orchestra Left tickets gave us an extremely close, unobstructed view of the stage (this moment was observed by Joe Saintface from the last row of Orchestra Left). I’ve had some choice seats before (i.e. the legendary Depeche Mode Jones Beach show a few years ago, thank you Matt Gentile), but these were CLOSE. Needless to say, Irene and I were buzzing when we arrived at our seats while former NY Doll David Johansen was playing.
In between sets, a disgruntled Peter Saintface came by (did I mention, all the way from the last row of Orchestra left) to tell us how inherently wrong it was that we had better seats than the Saintface crew. Without saying so, my dear friend was saying “motherfucker, you don’t DESERVE those seats” (and quite frankly, I concede that those lads are more hardcore than I could ever be and deserving of the best seats). In another NME moment, I told him which band he should stick with if he wants to see some rock n roll up close. All light-hearted though, I’m just busting balls, because quite honestly, I know we were all happy to be there.
Finally, the lights went down and the intro music began. The die-hards ran to the front as did part of our row, giving Irene and I a lot of room to watch the show. Suddenly, Michael Saintface appeared next to me. His genuine excitement for the imminent arrival of Morrissey reminded me of when my mom took me out of school to see the first showing of THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK in 1980. He’s already an intense dude, but this was pure love (though slightly scary), and I must admit, it was infectious. Before I could even respond, Michael had run to the dead center of the security barrier to join his two bandmates as they welcomed their idol to the stage with hundreds of other screaming fans. We were close, but Saintface was now closer.
And there he was, Moz himself, looking lean, handsome and stylish. And honestly, with this crowd, the man could do no wrong. Granted, he’s not the wildman of the olden days, but he commands the stage in a unique and special way. His band, led by the ever-talented Boz Boorer, was tight and kept the pace up. The addition of a keyboardist (who also played horns and bongos) was welcome. And the fans, including the three members of Saintface dead center, went ballistic. Morrissey delivered a great performance. His show was centered around his forthcoming album and I’m happy to say the songs don’t suck. He chose his set list carefully, a Smiths song (THERE IS A LIGHT THAT NEVER GOES OUT) here, a solo classic (EVERYDAY IS LIKE SUNDAY) there. It was enough to keep us engaged and entertained while serving as a reminder as to why this man deserves his status as “legend”. We sang along, we laughed, and we had fun.
But the fun came not only from the gig, but from the audience…A guy seated in the row ahead of us decked out in a painted denim jacket that said MORRISSEY IS GOD, had run to the front to deliver Moz daffodils (someone had to). While his friends stayed in their seats and kept bringing him drinks, he patiently waited for Moz to come near him. This dude’s hard work paid off as his love of Morrissey was consummated not only when Moz graciously accepted the flowers, but then later allowed this man to kiss his hand. The look on this guys face when he turned back to his friends was priceless. His patient friends were very excited for him and I have to admit, Irene and I were quite happy for him. It’s rare when you can feel that kind of pure joy for someone at a gig.
After years of being pissed off by his 45-minute sets of the past, Moz played a very full and hearty set. He returned to the stage to do the Smiths’ classic HAND IN GLOVE, which for old fan like me, was a welcome surprise.
Even better was when Moz ripped off his shirt and threw it into the front row and left for good while several fans, like SHARKS, jumped for the shirt. Now normally I wouldn’t even mention such a thing if it hadn’t been for the fact that of the half dozen or so fans fighting for a piece of this shirt, the scariest, most intense fan vying for a piece was none other than Michael Saintface. Now, at this point the houselights are up and this shirt is STILL being violently fought over. These fans are not letting go! Security can’t even break this one up. They’re rolling over the seats! Upon realizing Michael was in the thick of it, Irene and I rushed over to cheer him on. “C’MON MIKE! DO IT FOR SAINTFACE!”, we yelled. Pieces are broken off, and some fans are leaving, but Michael, reaching levels of TAXI DRIVER era Deniro ferociousness, is still struggling to get him some Moz. Suddenly, the joke wasn’t funny anymore.
Peter jumped in on this chaos when, after 10 minutes of struggle, it came down to Michael vs. one very aggressive woman. Little did Michael know that this woman is Saintface’s ASCAP rep who handles their publishing!!! Realizing this, Peter started asking Michael not to KILL this woman, thinking of course they will never see any publishing money. Eventually, thanks to Peter, they were able to each get a small piece of the shirt. I don’t think Michael spoke after this, but as I said to him on the way out, “Man, I’m glad your own our side!”. Joe Saintface, non-plussed by any of chaos, quietly convinced a roadie give him a set-list, so he was quite happy.
Later, as Peter was walking out with an oversized mounted poster of Moz on the cover of Spin (given to him by the same ASCAP rep!), he informed us that this fight for the shirt is a regular tradition amongst them. Go figure. Also, and I’m warning those of you who are going to see Moz this week, Michael Saintface is going to be BACK for another show (not sure which). When the shirt flies, RUN. Let the man have it, for God’s sake! He’s a good guy, but he’s got a bad case of Moz-it is! (I hope he takes this all in good fun!)
To say Irene and I were entertained by both the show and the events afterwards would again be another understatement. To the guy with the daffodils, I applaud you. To Saintface, It was an honour to see you leather clad warriors lose your cool and be true fans of music for one night.
And to Morrissey, all is forgiven.
F
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